I can scarcely remember a day when I didn’t know The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true. For as long as I can remember I was a Mormon and proud of it. I descended from Moses Harris, who joined the Church in 1832 when Joseph Smith, Jr. was the prophet. My ancestors were driven from state to state, losing children, homes, lands and security to the mobs who carried their ungodly raids upon the innocent saints. They helped Brigham Young settle the American West and play a critical role in the settlement of San Bernardino, California as well.
Born into that rich, rich heritage it goes without saying that everything about the Mormon Church colored every aspect of my life. And yet there was always a familiarity in the scriptures, a familiarity in the doctrine and a sure knowledge, from a very young age, that the gospel of Jesus Christ was true.
I immersed myself in the scriptures, absolutely devoured the word of God in my youth. Did the Church define everything I was? To a degree. I was a pom pom girl, but did nothing that betrayed my morals and values. I was an active figure in my school, but again, did not betray who I was as an emissary of Jesus Christ.
I always knew I was a child of God. In my prayers to our Father in Heaven I knew He was listening. I knew He cared about me and I knew that He loved me.
When I studied the life of our Savior, Jesus Christ, I knew He was the Son of God and although I did not understand the full scope of the Atonement until much later in life, I knew He died for me and made it possible for me to return to the presence of my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
From the first time I learned of Joseph Smith, Jr. my spirit recognized him as the prophet of the restoration. It wasn’t until I dedicated two years of my life, twelve hours a day, solely to the life and times of Joseph Smith, Jr. that my deep and abiding testimony of his mission and the restoration of Jesus Christ’s gospel and church, became strong and unassailable.
By the time I reached my late twenties I was so fully immersed in the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ that a lifetime of knowledge continued to be built upon, line by line, precept by precept and layer by layer. Every truth was recognized as was every lie. As I read the scriptures, individual witness of passages, principles and precepts were received.
I have a very cognizant memory of a thought which popped into my mind at that time. I had never actually prayed to know if the Church was true. I had never actually prayed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. I had never actually prayed to know if Joseph Smith, Jr. had been, and still was, a prophet of God. I had never followed the admonition of Moroni, the last prophet of the Book of Mormon:
Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts.
And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things. (Moroni 10:3-5)
I’d appeared on a world stage and defended The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’d testified in churches and homes across the nation of the divinity of Jesus Christ and His restored church. I’d taught in classrooms of His gospel. The flame of truth and righteous burned brightly within my soul, for it was testified to me time and time again of the truthfulness of the messages I delivered. And yet . . .
I remember actually stopping midstride in the halls of the corporation I worked for in stunned amazement. I’d never asked. I . . . had . . . never . . . asked. Even as this thought coalesced in my mind I distinctly heard, as clearly as if I were having a conversation with my husband, “Don’t be stupid.”
I gave a startled laugh and began walking with a smile on my face. I’d received my witness. The gospel of Jesus Christ as taught by the Mormon Church was true, in its entirety. From that day forward, and I had been no slouch before, I devoted myself to the study of the gospel and of sharing the good news as far and as wide as I was able.
I testify at this time of the truthfulness of the Holy Bible, as far as it is
